


Eight Days and Eternity

by AKAuthor



Series: We Call Everything on the Ice 'Love' [6]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Anxiety, Dancing, Death, End of the World, Love, M/M, Meteor, Romantic Soulmates, Snow, Touching, Wine, adoration, fast love, gays on ice in love, kinda sad, sort of soulmates, tragic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 02:26:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10548484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AKAuthor/pseuds/AKAuthor
Summary: All this time, his soulmate, that person who would fill his heart to burning, was two floors away. And now they only had eight days.Soulmate AU -just complete love





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm aware this is similar to a place on Earth, with you by melonbug and I adore that fic so this is in no way intended to enroach on writing property, I just like killing soulmates.  
> Also, hit me up with requests guys, I like writing.

_ 8 Days _

 

It had only been three days and yet the hallway was alien, swirls of dust floating in delicate spirals in streaks of cold sunlight. Yuuri Katsuki caught a drifting thought of how similar the dust was to petrol in a puddle, with its coils and slow turning. He stepped forward, the old and worn carpet weakly puffing out some more dust as a shoe pressed into it. The window at the end of the hall was open; a funnel of chilly air furrowing through the damp hall and disturbing the lazy spirals Yuuri had become caught up in. He blinked and closed his door, returning to the lumpy couch and cold bowl of rice awaiting him.

 

He moved into his dormitory just over a year ago, it was the cheapest option on campus for a student who was entirely dependant on a scholarship to pay for his education. Any other money went straight towards food, school supplies, or into a savings fund. The dorm building was cold all year round, in essence a large patch job of wall filler and heavy duty tape, with a shoddy paint job in a colour that suggested it had once been yellow at some point in time. Half the windows didn’t close and allowed stray snowflakes to scurry in on the wind in the dead of winter, there was a strange fluffy mold that crept in the corners of the bathrooms, and occasionally the hot water would turn off with a building-wide groan. 

But this was Yuuri’s home, a little dorm with disproportionate amounts of mold and hard carpet. He’d always intended to move out as soon as he got his degree and his foot into a better job, unfortunately, it no longer appeared as though he’d be moving out. 

 

 

The news had been nonstop for three days now, as though there were people with access to a television or internet or radio who hadn’t heard. The cheap and creaky T.V that sat on a washing basket in Yuuri’s dorm had been turned off after a day of the constant barrage of fear-mongering and doom-bringing. Some scientists in Russia had been the first to call it in, a large meteor on a non-deviating path for Earth. Not long after the news broke, panic set in too. 

 

Airports were still swamped, people desperate to get home as the official ‘countdown’ began, a ten day wait in which scientists hysterically attempted to find a way for the mudball that is Earth to avoid collision with the enormous and impending meteor. The university had closed, the lack of students and staff making the decision within hours. This left Yuuri, who supposed he was the last person left in his scrappy dorm building, if the complete lack of anything outside for two days was anything to go by. Even the streets were empty in comparison to a week ago, when rush hour traffic met tired students leaving class. 

That rush and panic on the first day was intense, noisy to the point of madness. Yuuri’s entire floor had cleared out in three hours, some students packing their cars with as much as possible, others just stuffing a suitcase and running down the stairs, ploughing through all the other people doing the exact same. Yuuri had tentatively made his way down four flights of stairs, hit once in the face by an opening bathroom door and his feet trampled more than enough times by suitcases and feet alike. 

 

Outside was no better, the corner store where most students bought their groceries busy and running out of bottled water and canned food. Yuuri had braved the crowds in a larger supermarket in order to snag some bottles of water and packets of dry food. He’d returned home to an empty building. 

 

Yuuri would like to go home, to spend his final days with his family, on their plush couch in front of the fireplace. His father’s radio would probably be on, buzzing with the countdown news while his sister showed off her cooking skills in the kitchen, to wrapped up in her tricks to notice mum sneaking scraps to the family labrador. But flights cost money, money Yuuri didn’t have saved, even if it wasn’t as though he would need the money in eleven days and counting if the news was to be believed. 

 

He slumped on the couch, tired hands rubbing at tired eyes. His curtains were closed, holes letting dots of light into the cramped room as the only source of light apart from that coming from under the door. A small fridge hummed sadly and loudly in the corner next to the coffee pot and sink. Brown eyes roved around the little room, falling on photographs stuck to the wall lopsidedly with blue-tack. Brown eyes suddenly filled with tears.

 

Through his steadily filling eyes, a flicker of feet passed his door, the shadows briefly touching old carpet as they moved towards the stairs. A pressing need to follow, to run, to _get out_ rams into Yuuri’s chest with the force of a car. He’s pulling open the creaky door and irritably brushing salt water from his cheeks before he fully registers what he’s doing. 

 

The hallway is unchanged, as Yuuri hesitantly walks toward the stairwell, mind overflowing with everything going on. The sunlight is still cold, dust still swirling, though now it is doing so with a speed indicating it had recently been disturbed. Running a hand through dark curls, Yuuri climbs the stairs, two flights, until he reached the door to the roof. There was no real indication for him to go to the roof, but the driving need to remove himself from the taunting of the television and the placid smiles in his photographs continues to move his legs through the open doorway and into the chilly air outside.

 

A rush of cold wind embraces Yuuri harshly, his eyes watering with the force of it to his face. The rooftop is a mess, unsurprisingly. Some old chairs with holes were sitting off to one side, a litter of cheap beer cans and shattered glass at their feet. A rusty piece of roofing iron waves in a gust of wind, and just beyond it, a tall figure stands looking upwards at the early evening sky. 

 

Their hair was long and loose, carried in the wind. Their hands were pale and clutched at their sides in tight fists, contrary to the casual stance they held their weight with. A slender leg clad in black tight pants was turned outwards in a show of normalcy, the other leg taking most of the figures weight. They haven’t noticed Yuuri, they’re far too absorbed in the sky, heavy clouds promising snow in the distance and early stars peeking out in the fading sunlight. A larger star sits blankly, innocently twinkling. 

 

“Hello,” Yuuri called, moving forward to the person, who jumped, startled. 

 

“Oh!” They turned, revealing masculine features, a broad chest, and blue eyes. 

 

“Terribly sorry,” Yuuri apologised, offering a hand. “Are you alright?” 

 

“I’m okay, thank you.” He replied in accented English. “I’m Viktor Nikiforov.” 

 

“Yuuri Katsuki,” he replied, drool gathering in his mouth. Viktor was positively gorgeous. And staring at him, mouth quirked at the corner. “Oh- uhm- I saw you come up… I thought I was the last person in the building,” Yuuri spat out, fumbling over the words. Viktor shrugged, that little smile not leaving his face.

 

“I’m afraid I’ve been hiding in my room, thought I might… come out for a look,” the taller lifted his arm to the bright star. “The news was bothering me.” Two sets of eyes fell from the weighted star to each other. 

 

“You don’t have to tell me, I gave up watching a day ago,” Yuuri bit his lip, shuffled his shoes. “Would- would you like some company? I mean, I could cook something and we could hang out… bu- but only if you want to, I don’t want to seem weird and you might have family or something-”

 

“I would enjoy dinner, Yuuri, trust me, I have no where better to be,” Viktor interrupted. 

 

 

 

 

_ 7 Days _

 

One dinner of macaroni and cheese cooked in the coffee pot turned into a night of sleeping on the couch, empty bowls abandoned on the carpet and legs tangled under a duvet. A movie played on the laptop in front of them, light flickering through the night as eyes drooped and sleep eventually took them. 

 

The next morning was cold, no sunlight coming through the holes in the curtain. Yuuri woke to cold feet and the smell of eggs in his dorm. Viktor, still in his outfit from yesterday was standing at the hotplate, happily humming a tune foreign to Yuuri. With a grumbling sigh he stood up off the couch and stretched, walking the six steps to the kitchenette where Viktor swayed his hips to an unheard rhythm. 

 

Yuuri found himself smiling, his mind not focussed on the meteor bearing down on them, not focussed on his family an ocean away. He was thrown into some kind of living daydream, domestic and sweet, where in another universe he lived in a house with his husband who would wake early and make breakfast. The wheezing of the hot water in the coffee pot jerked Yuuri rudely out of what might have once been. With one hand gripping the formica counter tightly, the other reached up to the cupboard of mugs.

 

“Good morning,” Viktor smiled, his eyes creasing at the corners. “I made eggs, I hope you don’t mind but they would expire soon so…” 

 

Yuuri’s fingers squeezed the mug he gripped, before numbness overtook his body. The mug, an old gift from his sister, fell to the floor and cracked, the sound dull to the rushing in Yuuri’s ears. The weight of the world fell down on top of him, crushing him to the floor, pressing hands to his arms and chest, pulling him and pushing him until blurry eyes closed and a heavy head fell forward. 

 

It could have been minutes or hours later when Yuuri found the will and energy within himself to open his eyes and take in his shabby dorm room from his position on the old couch. A pair of wide blue eyes greeted him, arched eyebrows and lofty cheekbones accompanying them. Yuuri swallowed hard. 

 

“Are you okay? I’m sorry, I didn’t think about what I was saying,” Viktor rushed out, hands fluttering over Yuuri in a motherly fashion. To his annoyance, more tears welled in his eyes, Yuuri angrily brushing them away.

 

“It’s fine, I should have accepted it by now, it’s life,” he said, voice hard to his own ears. Yuuri’s eyes lowered, mouth void of that charming grin that held Yuuri’s attention all night as they spoke. 

 

“It’s not life,” Viktor refuted. “It’s something else. Something cruel and unfair,” his voice was firm, determined, much like the man himself. Viktor was a dance major, apparently this was supposed to explain his tights and hoody outfit, as Yuuri learned last night. He’d scrimped and saved in order to study at their university, having dreamed of studying abroad. His parents were in Russia, working overtime, unable to call or Skype. 

And they’d closed the airports the day before. Viktor couldn’t get home, just like Yuuri. 

 

A mug, plain blue, was pressed into his hands, filled to a safe level with coffee. The blonde man offered him the sugar container. Without a word, Yuuri heaped a ridiculous amount into the dark liquid, aware that without milk his drink would be foul anyway. Viktor raised a mug to his own lips and downed it quickly, eyes closed. With a small tremble Yuuri forced himself to drink the coffee, leaving it to go cold seeming strangely harsh after his little breakdown while attempting to retrieve it. The drink was bitter on his tongue, even after all the sugar. Yuuri swallowed a frown with the last of the dregs, putting the mug on the small table. 

 

“Here, your hands,” Viktor shifted forward, pressing their curled legs together on the couch. Yuuri furrowed his brow and blinked, holding out his hands in confusion. Viktor muttered something in what must have been Russian, a twitchy smile brightening his face. 

 

“You didn’t notice, did you?” He asked, pressing something cold, clean smelling, and wet to Yuuri’s hands. A hot flash shot through the latter’s palm as small cuts from his fall to the floor covered with broken ceramic were cleaned with an antiseptic wipe. Flexing his fingers, noting how different their hands were, Yuuri shook his head.

 

“Not at all.”

 

Yuuri’s hands were larger, pale and decorated with a small mole. Yuuri’s own hands were a tanned shade of brown, smaller, with long fingers he’d always thought were crooked. They looked almost pathetic and broken in Yuuri’s cradling grip, not wholly unlike how Yuuri himself felt. Viktor leaned over their joint hands, carefully pressing a bandaid to the skin, mending the hurt. Yuuri slumped forward, about to pull his hands away, when Viktor lifted his head and moved his grip to his wrist. 

 

“Please don’t pull back. I don’t want to be alone.”

 

 

 

_ 6 Days _

 

They watched the news, footage of the meteor, named Candice. Airports worldwide had closed, causing more panic, as riots and looting became rampant in the streets of cities large and small. Public transport had halted in New York, Los Angeles, London, Paris, Berlin, and Moscow, leaving people stranded and lost in the snow. Power outages were expected to become frequent countrywide, though the government was assuring people that it would attempt to keep electricity and water on as long as possible. 

 

After they turned the TV off, Viktor mentioned changing clothes and taking the food left in his dorm so they could stay in here, on Yuuri’s lumpy couch, huddled under a duvet while they shared bowls of easy meals. Yuuri wasn’t sure when they had become so together in their lives, but with that brilliant star getting brighter every day, a little comfort in the arms of someone willing to give it was more than okay. 

 

 

Two floors down, Yuuri’s apartment was cleaner, with newer paint and nicer furniture. His floors were a hardwood, his couch was dusty but squishy, and there was an array of food of varying cultures littering the cupboards. They silently packed some grocery bags with the food, leaving anything they deemed pointless. Viktor took a moment to change, and grab some clothes, leaving Yuuri to wander the small living space. There was a bottle of wine, an expensive bottle, sitting on the living room table. A note on expensive paper was tucked underneath it, black ink seeped into the thick parchment. The words were in Russian, but messy and there were large blots where the ink had run. With it’s creased edges and crumpled appearance, Yuuri guessed the note had been clutched tightly and reread many times.

There were no photos on the walls, nothing but the note and wine to suggest a person lived here, if the blanket of dust over everything was anything to go by. 

Viktor had accepted this long before he ventured to the roof.

 

 

They returned, Yuuri not mentioning the cold dorm room or the note. The bottle of wine was put on the kitchen counter, it’s expensive label out of place against the peeling paint on the wall behind it. Yuuri fried off some rice, adding in some of the random spices he’d found in the back of Yuuri’s pantry. The man himself was draped on the couch like a large cat, head turned and watching Yuuri busy himself in the kitchenette. That tiny smile that curved the corner of his lips tugged at his mouth. 

A bowl was shared, along with a duvet, a movie, and a gentle hug. 

 

“Were you going to jump?” Yuuri asked to the darkness, head on a warm shoulder. A soft heartbeat echoed in his ears. 

 

“I think so,” Viktor replied, a hand pulling Yuuri closer. It wasn’t a full answer, or a completely honest one, but Yuuri would take it. The huge star loomed closer, he could see it when the curtains were opened. 

 

That night was spent on the couch again, this time in each other’s arms, legs tangled and breaths synced. It once might have been beautiful, now it was only sad. They slept with empty bowls, band aid packets, dirty mugs strewn around them. 

 

 

 

 

_ 5 Days _

 

They went to the roof again, hands joined. The news was still running in the dorm. That morning the water had been off for an hour. Snow had fallen overnight turning the rooftop into a sludgy grey mess that soaked holey shoes and softly crunched underfoot.Viktor smiled at the snow, tossing a loose handful off the edge of the building. He stuck his cold hands up Yuuri’s shirt, earning a hard slap to the bicep, but neither stopped smiling brightly. 

 

Arms were entwined and torsos pressed together, as though attempting to mould the shape of each other into themselves. Warm clouds surrounded their heads, their breaths misting as they laughed in unison, adoration gentle in touches, brief in glances, encompassing in falling bodies colliding with slushy snow.

 

They lay in the cold for a while, clothes soaking and chilling. Teeth chattered and hair dripped. There was no stopping what was coming. That reminder in the sky was unmissable, a firework in the night sky and a constant light as it burned ever closer. It was going to hit them, not like anything else ever had or ever will. It was still so far away and it had ruined so much. It had stopped the planet in its tracks, freezing time altogether it seemed. 

 

Viktor sighed and pressed his lips to Yuuri’s head, the younger man wetting his shirt with cold tears. His own eyes were trained on that giant circle above them. So fascinating. So painful. 

 

They lay until their hands were numb and they were forced to cram themselves into the tiny shower cubicles, unwilling to give up comforting contact. They didn’t trade touches more than innocent clutching, no, but there was something intense in their desperation for company. It was more than a loneliness in the face of the end now, it was huge and ripping, crashing into them and putting their arms around each other. It was watching the other move around and piling their combined laundry together. It was Yuuri using Viktor as a mattress as they lay on the couch, mentally counting down, neither willing to admit it. 

 

It was funny how love had always been two floors away until it was five days away from eternity. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_ 4 Days _

 

“If I hadn’t come up, would you have jumped?” The question is bland, spoken with a blank tone as Yuuri dries a mug in the kitchenette. Viktor looks up from his position on the couch, eyes leaving the news (it had been on increasingly often lately).

 

“Yes.” 

 

There’s a thud as the mug meets the formica. A tangle of emotions wedges itself in Yuuri’s chest. He won’t admit it, he can’t admit it, but if he had that courage, that huge personality Viktor did, the confidence, he would have jumped. But he didn’t. And it hurt to think that he might not have Viktor to cuddle, to lie on, to fall in the snow with. 

 

The “why” that comes next is hollow. 

 

“Because I don’t want to die like this. I want to be in control, I want to have my life entirely up to me as to what happens. And then…” a hand is waved at the window.Viktor’s voice doesn’t break, it shatters. “I don’t want to die like this, I don’t want to die alone.”

 

There’s images of a teetering body on the ledge of the roof.

 

Yuuri clutches Viktor to his chest, like a child might hold a doll. There’s shaking sobs wrecking both of them, the news playing in the background, taunting and mocking as images of the fireball play across the screen. Cold invades extremities, filling fingers with a numbness in contrast to the painful fire inside their chests, like a heart set on fire.

 

There’s a picture of a broken doll lying on the street.

 

“I wanted to be in control, I can’t do it,”Viktor turns in Yuuri’s grip. His hands roughly press to the sides of the others head, holding it firm as tears blur vision. “You’ll stay with me? I can’t do it alone.” 

 

“Of course,” Yuuri breathes, as though it was the easiest thing in the world. As though it had already been decided. “I can’t do it alone either, I promise” he says through thick tears and a running nose. 

 

They kiss, and it’s perfect. Messy, full of teeth and sobs, chests hitching and breaths loud and rough. Tears continue to tumble down cheeks as hands knot in hair and the couch creaks under the weight. Skin is gripped until it bruises, teeth clack and scrape in desperation, lungs scream for air as their situation continues to fall on top of them, squashing them together under its immense weight.

 

Yuuri thinks he can feel his rib cage cracking under the pressure.

 

It might just be crushing love though.

 

 

 

 

_ 3 Days _

 

Viktor opens the bottle of wine, and they drink, they drink and laugh, they ignore the news and the world and relish in each other. They hiccup “ _i love yous_ ” and stumble over kisses with numb mouths and hot hands. 

 

Yuuri finds a radio station on the internet that is only playing music, trekking through the decades steadily with no reminders of the world outside the little dorm room. They dance wildly in the room, kicking the table out of the way and moving the couch. The world is forgotten as they spin each other around and lay giggling kisses to available skin. 

 

(The world is forgotten until a shin hits the table).

 

The music is too loud, it’s the wrong sort too, but they waltz and tango to their best ability. Viktor dips Yuuri until his short curls brush the threadbare carpet, before the latter grins and knocks his feet out, sending them crashing to the floor in a mass of limbs and laughter. 

 

The entire night is spent slow dancing in the middle of a small dorm room, the curtains closed and lights off. The power cuts out and they still dance, laughter absent as tears threaten to fall again. Yuuri has his head pressed to a chest, where a warm and wet heartbeat is thumping while they sway to music that has long since been cut off. 

 

“God I wish I’d met you sooner.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

_ 2 Days _

 

Love is never convenient. It always crops up when you’re already married, or you’re sick, or the world is actually ending for real. 

Love is different, it is sometimes small and sometimes big, short or long, and yet it manages to snag every fibre of every being at least once. It pulls you into an embrace, locks you in, and spins until the earth around you is a blur and you feel as though you might be sick. 

Love was short for Viktor and Yuuri, who were acutely aware of the situation and were staring up at Candice the meteor, who hung in the sky like a second sun, smiling at the misfortune of those watching her descent. 

 

There was no power and no water now, they had very little food left, but neither Yuuri nor Viktor was concerned. Their short love was enough for now, made up of coffee pot macaroni and cheese and overly-sweet coffee. Their love was sludgy snow and building edges. And it was nearing its end. 

 

Yuuri had taken his photos down, pressed them into the grey snow and left them there, to go soggy and freeze. To watch the bright death loom closer. Just as he was, holding the hand of his heart-gone-walk-about. 

 

They didn’t sleep that night, instead they barely kept tears at bay while holding each other close making the most of that little human contact they had left. The curtain was open and the bright light of the middle of the night was filling the room. 

 

 

 

 

_ 1 Day _

 

They didn’t move for the day, they sat together, talking and laughing, attempting to catch up on all the life they missed together. It was so late for learning but Viktor still needed to know Yuuri’s favourite television show as a child, and Yuuri still wanted to find out what Viktor thought of meerkats.

 

The short love of the end of the world is faster and smaller. 

 

They learn this as they sit on the couch, facing each other, cups of cold melted snow and coffee grinds mixed with sugar in their hands. 

 

They trade “ _i love yous_ ” sober this time.

 

_ Soulmates eclipse their hearts with love, and unfortunately, sometimes fate doesn't give them time enough to themselves. _

 

And then they promise not to let go, to leave the other alone as Candice breaks out bright above them. Hands are held, heads pressed together, eyes closed in pain, hearts burning with the love that never got time. 

 

 

“I promise” echoes as the dorm room goes dark.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
